


Musth

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: An alpha man’s alpha mate goes into heat.





	Musth

I know it’s gonna be a bad one when I see Flo – or, should I say, _what’s left of her_ – on the kitchen counter. She’s missing both of her ears, her tail, three of her legs, and perhaps half of her digestive tract.

And she is, needless to say, dead. Extremely dead. I offer a silent prayer to Bastet as I dispose of the corpse. It takes an entire litre of bleach to get rid of all the blood.

This is our eighth cat since we’ve got married, but it’s only the second to meet this manner of unfortunate, foreshortened end…and that first one, alas, was my fault. I wonder if I ought to rethink my sympathy for feral strays. They would’ve been put down at the shelter anyway if I hadn’t taken them in, but if this keeps on happening—

‘You’re home early.’

Ah. Speaking of strays, lo and behold—

‘Bank holiday? Remember?’

‘Oh.’

Which means ‘no.’

‘ _Steve_ ,’ I grit out, ‘if you must take out your excess musth aggression on something, can it _not_ be one of my cats next time?’

‘No worries. Way ahead of you there,’ Steve says, feigning nonchalance as he tosses a battered rucksack onto the floor. He’s been to the gym, I see. So he _was_ actually way ahead of me. I suppose I should be grateful – there is no trace of Morrie or Kay anywhere, and trust me, that’s a _good_ sign.

‘I’d appreciate an apol—’

‘ _Move_ , Michael.’

Steve elbows me roughly aside and away from the refrigerator door so that he can grab a sports drink. The bottle’s empty in a single long swig. He needs to keep himself well-hydrated because – woah. _Woah_ there. I’m getting a mighty whiff of him right now.

‘Did you take a shower at the gym? You reek,’ I complain. His scent is acrid, strong, almost overpowering yet utterly familiar. _Arousing_.

‘Bollocks.’

Which means ‘yes,’ I know, but he shouldn’t have bothered making the effort. I level my gaze pointedly down to his crotch and the spreading wet spot on the fabric of his gym shorts. ‘You didn’t even bother with a nappy. The neighbours will be lodging complaints with the Council about antisocial scent-marking aga—’

Steve grabs me mid-sentence and throws me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I sputter with exaggerated outrage. He closed the distance between us so goddamn fast that I didn’t even see him _move_. Small wonder Flo was doomed.

I’m then dumped unceremoniously into our bed. Our clothes are removed – I think I hear seams ripping. ‘You know I can’t help it, and nappies are for babies,’ Steve growls as he climbs in on top of me, naked chest to naked chest. His pupils are dilated with need, and his cock is already hard and prodding me impatiently, dabbing me with bits of his pungent wetness like it’s the finest cologne. ‘ _You_ , on the other hand, are aaaallll for _meeee_ …’

I pull his head down to mine into a fierce kiss. I know from many years of experience what is about to happen, and it makes me want, want, _want_. As our tongues twine and dance, I massage his swollen temporal glands with my fingertips and work on clearing the build-up of musth oil clogging his pores – no question the pain is contributing to his short temper. Goodness knows I’ve been there myself.

Steve breaks the kiss and reaches for the tube of lubricant in a nearby drawer. Sometimes I begrudge the biology that means we require it. The lube is chilly as it goes on, but it warms quickly, and I focus on relaxing my arsehole.

It’s about to take some serious punishment.

As expected, he takes me in one go, impossibly big, and he doesn’t bother giving me time to adjust. No shallow strokes or gentle circling for Steve when he’s in musth, oh no – he starts ploughing me immediately, really ploughing me, and riding my prostate gland like he has a personal grudge against it.

Which he doesn’t, but even if he did, I’m already too far gone to care.

I moan and sigh and mumble semi-coherent endearments. I inhale deeply, Steve’s scent filling my nostrils. I rest my legs on Steve’s shoulders to give him a better angle, and he bends my spine practically double and thrusts more enthusiastically still. His knot has emerged from its sheath and is slapping my arsehole loudly, sharp and ringing, and he’s started to tremble – he’s close, very close.

But I’m not, and Steve knows it, which is why he hasn’t tied with me yet. I’ll have to catch up – and quickly. I take my own rock-hard cock in hand and wank myself, perfectly in sync with Steve’s thrusts: in, _down_ , out, _up_ , in,  _down_ , out,  _up_. Soon, I’m about to pop my knot too.

‘Ready, sweetheart?’ Steve pants.

‘R-Ready,’ I confirm. I’m a bit breathless; I want to come. No, I need to come—!

He starts shoving his knot into me. My arsehole isn’t really meant to take this manner of punishment, and it’s always a strain to get through the resistant ring of muscle. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, though, and then he’s in, all the way in, and my arsehole closes around the base of Steve’s knot.

We’re tied together, so he can’t thrust fully in and out anymore. Instead, he rocks against me frantically, trembling and groaning, seconds from coming, and I stroke myself with one hand and use the other to grip behind my own knot and _squeeze_ —

Steve and I begin ejaculating in the same instant, a veritable flood of semen that pours out of the both of us for what seems like forever. Any alpha man who says it’s wrong to take another alpha man as his mate has never experienced an alpha orgasm while knotted with another alpha’s cock.

Once you _have_ experienced it, I promise you’ll never want to go back. I certainly haven’t.

Our post-copulatory embrace lasts for over twenty minutes, and for as long as we are unable to separate, Steve is calm, given temporary relief from musth-induced rage.

While we cuddle, I notice two sets of wary feline eyes watching us from the top of the wardrobe. Morrie and Kay – well, I’m glad they’re safe at present.

Or at least until it’s _my_ turn to go into musth. Oh dear. I suppose we’ll definitely have to do something about the cats before that…

 

* * *

_**-fin-** _


End file.
